The Three Hunters
by dreamflower02
Summary: In which Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli think about the two hobbits they have set out to rescue, as they race across Rohan... A three-part POV gapfiller. Thanks to Lindelea for the beta.
1. Part One: Aragorn

**THE THREE HUNTERS**

**PART 1: ARAGORN**

Aragorn continued to run at a ground-eating lope; he was aware of his companions running behind him. Legolas, of course, made not a sound, but the knowledge that the Elf was there was enough to keep him at the edge of Aragorn's awareness; while he could distinctly hear the rhythmic thump of Gimli's heavy and tireless tread. He had feared at one point that the short-legged Dwarf could not keep up, but the legendary endurance of the Dwarves was apparently true, and though on occasion Gimli seemed to fall behind briefly on level ground his footsteps never faltered, and he always caught up when they went uphill.

Last night when they had come upon the signs of their quarry he had been both hopeful and fearful: Carnage among the enemy could mean danger for the small prisoners.

Aragorn had gazed in dismay at the five dead Orcs, the ground all bespattered with black blood. The bodies were all but dismembered, and two had been beheaded. With a sinking feeling he had cast his eye over the scene, but noted with relief no signs of red blood, no indications that Merry and Pippin had been harmed in this altercation. So far, the only trace of red blood they had found had been at the beginning-not far from the place where they had found the hobbits' belt knives, there had been some traces of red blood on the bark of a tree-an abrasion as one of them was slammed against it during the capture had been his best guess.

They soon determined that this had been some disagreement between the different parties of Orcs, and Aragorn began to cast about once more for some sign. Finding nothing new, they continued to run northward. For hours there had been no more signs upon the rocky ground, but dawn had brought new hope, and now the track of the Orcs was clearly to be seen, as their foul tread made its way across the verdant wold of Rohan.

He heard Legolas breathe deeply.

_"Ah! the green smell!" he said. "It is better than much sleep. Let us run!" _*

"Light feet may run swiftly here" said Aragorn, "More swiftly, maybe, than iron-shod Orcs. Now we have a chance to lessen their lead."

Gimli said nothing, but the rhythm of his feet picked up a swifter pace.

The three hunters ran even more swiftly, encouraged and given a second wind by the signs of their quarry.

It had been no more than an hour later, that he spotted it-the signs he had been hoping for. Pippin's footprints, Pippin's Lórien brooch-Aragorn touched the pouch at his side briefly, the thought of that small token carefully placed there reassuring him. He fixed his mind firmly on the hope that he would be able to return it to its brave owner.

_"Let us hope he did not pay too dearly for his boldness," said Legolas. "Come! Let us go on! The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart!"_*

How that same thought burned Aragorn's own heart, with a sting of fear, and of regret. The Orcs would use whips and ropes, and dragging and carrying as needed to drive the hobbits on.

Yet he remembered with a pang of guilt how he too had driven them nearly beyond endurance, driving them not by whips but by the lash of their fear and love for Frodo. He and Glorfindel had nearly broken them, all unthinking…

xxxxxxx

_The hobbits and Aragorn had been travelling hard before they had ever encountered Glorfindel, but it was nothing to the pace the Elf was setting now… _

_Perched upon Asfaloth, his eyes glazing over, and his mind clouded with pain, Frodo had no thoughts to spare for his cousins and Sam stumbling along in his wake. Glorfindel led the white horse, Sam had hold of Bill's leading reins, though the pony seemed happy enough to follow along behind the great horse. Aragorn kept to one side, ranging ahead and dropping back. He was weary himself, but when he cast his eyes on the hobbits, there was no sign of faltering. Their small legs kept moving, two or perhaps three steps to every one of the Elf's long steps. _

_When the Sun began to cast her rays over the land, Glorfindel finally stopped. _

_The three hobbits stumbled forward a few more steps, before realizing they were finally to be allowed to stop. Merry and Pippin were leaning against one another, and Pippin's face was nearly grey with exhaustion. Sam was breathing heavily. Glorfindel lifted Frodo down from Asfaloth, and laid the injured hobbit down in a patch of soft heather near the side of the road. The others collapsed alongside him, Pippin asleep nearly before he even lay down, and Merry and Sam following suit. Strider looked at them for a moment. Something was wrong, but he could not really put his finger to it. He was as tired himself as he had been in a long time. _

_Glorfindel looked at him. "Sleep, Estel. I will stand watch, and wake you ere noon." _

_Nodding wearily, Aragorn had cast himself upon the ground, and just as sleep came to claim him, he realized what was amiss. _

_Not one of the three hobbits had said anything at all about food or hunger before they had gone to sleep. That was probably not a good sign. But his mind had refused to think on it more, and he had drifted off. _

_It was perhaps an hour and a half short of noon, when the Elf shook him awake. He had sat up at once, feeling much refreshed for the rest, and glanced over at the hobbits. Because of the injury, Frodo had been sleeping to the outside of their pile, lest his left shoulder should be disturbed, and though Sam and Merry were unhappy with the arrangement, they saw the sense in it. Aragorn rose immediately to check on him. The others had not yet stirred, but as he gently examined the injury, Frodo gave a weak cry of pain, and Sam and Merry sat up. _

_Glorfindel stood over them, and in Sindarin, asked Aragorn, "How fares he, Estel?" _

_"Better than I expected, yet not good. I am amazed that he has not yet succumbed," he replied in the same language. _

_Both the other hobbits glared at them. "What's the matter?" Merry asked, suspicious and belligerent. Sam's brown eyes flicked from Aragorn to Glorfindel and back again, wary. _

_"I am sorry, Merry," Aragorn replied in Westron. "We were just checking on him. He is doing better than I had thought he would after so long a time. Will you waken Pippin? We shall need to start soon." _

_With a sigh, Merry turned to Pippin, who was still deeply asleep on his other side. He shook his head, and with an expression of fond regret, placed his hand on his younger cousin's brow, and stroking lightly, said "Pip? Pippin? You have to wake up now." _

_"We just went to sleep," was the plaintive reply. Nevertheless, he sat up slowly. He did not look at all rested. There was a rumble from the vicinity of his middle, but rather than saying anything, he simply gave Merry a look of sad resignation, and rose to his knees. _

_Sam had risen and stumbled over to the much-depleted supplies among Bill's packs, taking down the waterskins and the packages of dried fruit and stale bread. Merry, with trembling hands, had rummaged in their packs for their tin mugs. _

_Before Sam could share out the water, Glorfindel stopped him. He held a flask which Aragorn recognized-it was _miruvor_, the Cordial of Imladris. The Ranger raised his brows. His foster father must have had some foresight of such a need, for that was not something commonly supplied to warriors or scouts. Glorfindel caught his eye, and nodded._

_"Drink this", said the Elf pouring a small amount for each of them. The hobbits accepted it gratefully, and an expression of amazed delight came over their faces as they drank. Sam and Merry helped Frodo to sip a bit, and a bit of color returned to his white face, if only briefly. He blinked, and was able to murmur a brief thanks, before his eyes clouded with pain once more. _

_They set to on the bread and fruit, and found it more heartening and tastier than they had expected. It was with renewed hope and vigor that they stumbled up, and began their trek once more. _

_They had gone steadily for another three hours, when Sam, catching a toe on a stone, stumbled and went to his knees. The startled Bill very nearly stepped on his small master, and backed up, eyes rolling. Merry, who had been guiding Pippin, stopped and turned to help Sam back to his feet. _

_"Strider!" he called. _

_Aragorn turned to look, and the expression of desperate defiance in the stormy grey eyes led him to call out. _

_"Glorfindel! We need to stop for a few moments!" _

_Glorfindel turned back, looking annoyed. But then his gaze fell on the three hobbits, leaning against one another, and breathing hard. _

_"A few moments, then," he said grudgingly. _

_Aragorn went over to Bill, and dug out a few pieces of dried fruit, which he distributed, and they passed around one of the waterskins. Then, as soon as they had eaten and drunk their meagre rations, and without another word, Glorfindel led them on again. _

_They made another, even briefer halt a couple of hours later. Aragorn knew why the Elf was hurrying so-he too could sense that their enemies were drawing nearer, and they still had a long way to go. _

_He had a brief conversation with Glorfindel in Sindarin. "I am not sure how much longer they can keep this pace," he told the Elf. _

_"They are slowing us down, and the Enemy is drawing closer. Yet we cannot risk encumbering ourselves by carrying them." _

_"*Carrying* them?" That had not even occurred to Aragorn. _

_"We could put one of them on the pony, and each of us could carry one," the Elf explained, "and we could make faster time, but that would hinder us in fighting if we are assailed by the Enemy." _

_Aragorn looked at the three, who once more were looking suspicious. He knew that not knowing what was said would make them anxious. But for once he was glad they did not understand-he was certain that the idea of being carried would have been met with indignation. _

_"What's going on?" asked Merry. _

_"We must continue to hurry on, until dark at least," answered Glorfindel. "I wish to put at least another league or two behind us." _

_"Well," said Pippin, in a tone of determination, "if we must, we must. Frodo needs us." _

_"Let's go then," said Sam. "Jawing won't get us anywhere." _

_And when Frodo gave a moan of pain, it lent new energy to his friends. _

_It was full dark when they stopped again, and once more, the hobbits collapsed without even asking for food. _

_That night, Aragorn had stood watch, as Glorfindel did some scouting about. It was after midnight when the Elf returned to relieve him. _

_"Did you find anything?" he had asked. _

_"Their presence is drawing closer. I hope against hope that we shall make the Ford ere they come upon us." He looked at the sleeping hobbits. "Perhaps I should take Frodo on Asfaloth, and go on ahead, leaving you to bring these three later on." _

_Aragorn shook his head. "I am loathe to separate them," he said. "Though he may not seem to be aware, I know their presence is lending Frodo strength. And they would be very angry to wake and find him gone." _

_"Very well, Estel, you are the healer." said Glorfindel. "I leave that decision up to you." _

_At dawn, Glorfindel had spared each of them another mouthful of miruvor and they continued on. The way had grown easier, grassier, and less rocky, it was all downhill now. _

_But while the hobbits were feeling some relief, Glorfindel and Aragorn had grown even warier. Now, if ever, would be the time to fear an attack by the Nine. _

_And of course, that was exactly how it had fallen out-Aragorn found himself admiring the way all three of the hobbits had eagerly grabbed the burning brands from the fire Glorfindel had kindled, and drawn their small barrow blades, and rushed fiercely out heedless of their own safety. The threat to Frodo had pushed away all their weariness, and they had charged out recklessly. Had the Nine not been so intent on their true prey, they would have made short work of three small halflings, but Aragorn's presence as at Weathertop, and most of all Glorfindel in all his otherworldly majesty, threw them into disarray. Even as the waters poured down upon the Ringwraiths and washed them away, the fearsome creatures shrieked their frustration. _

_They had stood there, watching the roaring waters tumble by, barely able to see Frodo's crumpled figure lying upon the ground, and the white horse standing over him protectlvely. Merry started to wade into the water, only to find himself yanked back sharply by Pippin and Sam. _

_"Patience, Master Meriadoc," Glorfindel had said. "The waters will subside nearly as quickly as they came up." _

_And so Sam, Merry and Pippin had wept in despair while they waited for the water to subside enough for them to cross, carried one-at-a-time on the backs of Man and Elf-lord. As quickly as they could, they were at Frodo's side. _

_"Is he dead?" cried Pippin, desperately. Merry had taken Frodo's head into his lap, and wept, as Sam, last to be carried across, ran up and fell to his knees beside Frodo, clutching at his master's hand. _

_Aragorn had knelt, and put his fingers to the side of Frodo's neck, felt the faint flutter of a pulse. _

_"He's alive!" he exclaimed in delighted amazement, though fear for the hobbit gripped him as it had since Weathertop. "He's alive, and still fighting!" _

_Glorfindel scooped Frodo from the ground, and turned to Asfaloth. But the great-hearted horse was standing with his weight on three legs-not a good sign, and on inspection his rider found he had picked up a sharp stone, in the soft frog of one forefoot, in the passage of the Ford. He would not be up to carrying anyone any further for a while. So the Elf began to slowly walk up the path, his sad burden cradled in his arms. _

_Aragorn turned to rally the hobbits for the long trek up to the Last Homely House. He helped Pippin to his feet, and then turned at a choking sound, to see Sam, on hands and knees, being noisily sick. Merry struggled to his feet, stood swaying for a moment, and then collapsed bonelessly to the ground in a swoon. _

_Pippin rushed to Merry's side with a wordless cry, and Aragorn stooped to check on him. _

_He was beginning to wonder what to do next, when to his relief he heard horses, and looked up to see Elladan and Elrohir, accompanied by a few other Elves, and leading a spare horse. _

_Glorfindel gratefully mounted the spare horse with Frodo, and one of the other Elves dismounted to lead the exhausted Asfaloth and Bill. Elrohir took Merry, and Elladan took Pippin, and Aragorn put Sam in front of himself as he took the horse of the Elf who had dismounted, and they bore the hobbits up the path to their refuge… _

_xxxxxxx_

Food, rest, and most of all, the comforting presence of Bilbo, had soon put the younger hobbits to rights, but Aragorn had not forgotten his fear that in the effort to save Frodo, he had imperiled the other hobbits. Indeed, he did not know what he and Glorfindel could have done differently in order to get Frodo safely to Rivendell, and to avoid the Ringwraiths.

But he still felt guilty over what he had put them through during their desperate flight from Weathertop, and he now feared what kind of shape Merry and Pippin would be in if-no, when-they were rescued.

He drew a deep breath, and put the memories behind him, and increased his pace. He *would* find them. They *would* be saved. Anything else was unthinkable…

*From The Two Towers, Chapter II, "The Riders of Rohan"


	2. Part Two: Legolas

**THE THREE HUNTERS**

**PART 2: LEGOLAS**

The green grass of the plain, the open sky overhead-it was as good as a rest, Legolas thought.

How clever of Pippin, to grasp an opportunity to dart away, and leave a sign of his presence. It heartened Legolas to know that the young hobbit had been sufficiently hale and in possession of enough wits to do such a thing. It was just the sort of thing that the small Took would dare, and it reassured Legolas as to Merry's state as well. If aught dire had befallen Merry, then he did not think Pippin would have cared enough to make the effort-the younger cousin would instead have sought to share his cousin's fate. But there had been no signs of such. He was sure that Merry lived as well.

He smiled to himself, remembering his first private conversation with Pippin, only a few days after the Council in Rivendell. The youngest hobbit had vanished, and Merry, irritated, had badgered Aragorn, Legolas and the other hobbits into looking for him. Frodo had been amused, and told Merry that Pippin was probably just escaping the tedium of poring over old maps-nevertheless, he had joined in the search.

Legolas had found the young one in a tree, and rather than betray his quarry's hiding place, they had held a long and rather revealing conversation. The Elf discovered that not only did he have more in common with the young hobbit than he had ever thought he would, but that Pippin's rambling and often flighty conversation concealed a clever, indeed a devious, mind.

_"You are young indeed, master hobbit, but you are not a fool. Perhaps Lord Elrond would do well to take that into account." _

_"Age isn't everything," Pippin agreed. "I think we might surprise them in the end."*_

The two of them had slipped from the tree without letting the searchers know of their whereabouts, and had allowed themselves to be found in the kitchen, where Pippin had proved his charm by cadging treats from the cooks…

xxxxxxx

_It was a few days later that he had a chance to speak again with Pippin, and with Merry as well. He had gone down to the archery butts one morning, to get in some practice. He had emptied his quiver, all the arrows placed well within the clout, and then turned to see them watching him with admiration. He had known they were there of course…_

"That's amazing," said Pippin. "I've never seen anyone shoot so fast."

Merry nodded. "Or so far," he added.

"Do you shoot?" Legolas asked them curiously.

Merry shrugged. "I *can* shoot. I'm not particularly good." His eyes flicked to Pippin, "Pip's very good indeed. But then, he's a Took."

"I'm not bad," Pippin admitted artlessly. "But I'm not as good as Cousin Ferdibrand."

"But Cousin Ferdibrand is not so good on the pipes, is he?" said Merry wryly. Apparently this was hilarious, because Pippin burst out into delighted peals of laughter.

Finally he subsided, wiping tears from his eyes, and still chuckling a bit breathlessly. "It depends on whether or not you like the sound of cats being tortured," Pippin finally said. He looked up at Legolas. "Family joke, of course, I'm sorry. But consider yourself lucky you've never heard Cousin Ferdibrand play the pipes!"

Legolas chuckled as well, amused more by the hobbits' cheerful good humour than any understanding of the joke. "Do you have a bow?" he asked.

Pippin sighed. "I had wanted to bring my bow-I thought it would come in handy. But my father would have thought it very odd if I took it along when I was just going to visit Frodo and help him move. So I thought it best that I not give him reason to ask questions."

"Well," said Merry, "hobbits don't often need bows." He stooped, picked up a small stone, and flicked a look at Pippin.

Pippin must have known what Merry meant, for he stooped as well, and picked up a slightly larger stone and threw it into the air.

Merry's arm flashed, and the larger stone shattered as it was hit by the smaller one he had cast.

Legolas' brows rose in surprise. "That was well done!"

Merry shrugged. "We don't usually use bows when we hunt-stones are fine for bringing down squirrels or rabbits or pigeons."

"What about larger game?" Legolas asked curiously.

"We use bows when hunting wild pigs or foxes, if they become a nuisance and a danger." said Pippin. "Deer are not common in the Shire-so we usually prefer to look at them instead of hunt them-if we are so fortunate as to see one. Cousin Everard took a deer about two years ago. The venison was very good."

"And of course it took archers to hunt the wolves during the Fell Winter many years ago," put in Merry. "Bilbo could probably tell a bit about that-he would have been a few years younger than Pippin when it happened."

As he listened to them talk, Legolas suddenly realized what sheltered lives they had led. He found himself thinking of his own home, so beset with dangers-Orcs, spiders, wolves, the growing Shadow. These little ones had left their homeland, so safe and quiet, and had deliberately set forth to meet a danger that had to be unfathomable to them. And something Pippin had said earlier…

"You came away from your homes without your families' leave, did you not?"

Both of them sobered at once. "Yes," said Merry. "Of course, I am of age, and technically I shouldn't need my father's leave. But normally I would have at least told him, asked his blessing…" His voice trailed off. Deceiving his parents had been very hard for Merry.

"And my parents would simply have forbidden it. I couldn't take that chance." Pippin bit his lip. He had sometimes had problems with his father since he entered his tweens, and he was not quite sure whether this particular transgression would ever be forgiven. If he ever got home. The thought was as plain on his face as if he had spoken aloud.

Merry placed a comforting hand on Pippin's shoulder. "But it's _Frodo_. We couldn't let him go without us. He's…" Merry stopped for a moment, trying to think of some way to explain to the Elf how they felt about their older cousin. "He's like our older brother, I suppose. But more than that, he's special. There's not another hobbit like him in the Shire."

"We couldn't do without him, really," said Pippin. "And he can't do without us."

Legolas had nodded. He had noticed that Frodo Baggins had an incredibly bright spirit, brighter than he would ever have expected to encounter in a mortal. And it was clear those who loved him could perceive that, even if they knew not what it was they were perceiving.

"Well," said Pippin, . "Are you going to shoot some more?" he asked cheerily, clearly ready to slough off the serious conversation, and return to more pleasant topics.

So Legolas had done some more shooting, showing them some of the trick shots he knew, and enjoying their amazed delight. And he watched in fascination, as they cast more stones. How quickly and nimbly they moved!

_They had spent an enjoyable morning in one another's company, and he had walked back with them when their rumbling stomachs informed them it was time for elevenses. He had cast an eye at the sky at their announcement, and certainly enough, Anor was just an hour short of her noontide zenith…_

_xxxxxxx_

He thought of some of the other occasions he had spent with the two younger hobbits, realizing that somehow, they had already crept into his heart before they ever left Rivendell. And as they journeyed, he had delighted in their buoyant spirits and their determination, along with Sam, not to allow Frodo to falter under the heavy weight of his burden.

He had held conversations with Merry, who was insatiable about learning all he could of the lands they passed through, and he had found in Pippin a kindred spirit-their shared love of music and, he had to confess it, sense of mischief, had drawn him especially to the younger hobbit. But he knew that underneath it all, for both of them, was a grim, iron determination to protect Frodo in any way they could.

Now, Frodo had left them behind, in an effort to protect _them_. And the best thing that Legolas could do now would be to find Frodo's beloved cousins, and return them safely to him if-no, when-it all was over…

They _had_to be all right. The alternative was unthinkable.

_  
*From Bodkin's delightful story "On Being the Youngest", found on Stories of Arda, and used with her permission. Thank you very much, Bodkin!


	3. Part Three: Gimli

** THE THREE HUNTERS**

**PART 3: GIMLI**

Gimli's feet thudded against the ground in time with the pounding of his heart. He had needed the rest they had taken the night before, though he knew that the Elf-that Legolas-had not wished to stop their pursuit. But he had to admit to himself, he could not have continued for much longer.

Now they had to try to make up the time they had lost. If they were too late to save young Merry and Pippin because of that, he would never forgive himself. And yet, somehow, he held on to hope.

Hobbits were tough. That was what he had learned from his father. Gloín had never forgotten the role that Bilbo had played in helping to free the Lonely Mountain of the Dragon, and he had often talked about it to his son.

"I will never forget, my son, that the small creature who seemed to be soft as butter, was the true hero of the entire expedition. Everyone seemed to underestimate him. It was, of course, largely his own fault-he was modest, and never seemed to take credit for all he did. But he never backed down once he set himself upon a course of action, and he never once considered abandoning the rest of us, though there were many occasions when he would have been far safer to do so. Not," Gloín had added ruefully, "something that could have been said of the rest of us. We did not always treat him as honorably as he treated us."

And when Gimli had finally met Bilbo Baggins, on the hobbit's last visit to the Lonely Mountain, he had to admit that he would scarcely have believed his father's tales of this mild-mannered little being who seemed only concerned about his next meal, had he not seen the honor in which all his elders and kin held Master Baggins. Truly the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain held Bilbo Baggins in the highest of esteem.

He had been honored to meet Bilbo once more, and Frodo had impressed him at the Council. It was clear that Bilbo had chosen one very worthy to be his heir, and that Frodo-if anyone could-would be up to the task he had offered to undertake. He was also impressed with Sam's level-headed devotion.

He'd been less impressed with the younger hobbits. He had not really met them to speak with, other than merest introductions, but he had observed them-constantly joking and bantering and playing the fools, and seemingly concerned for nothing more than their next meal. More than once he had heard Gandalf reprimanding Pippin for speaking too lightly.

It was not until they came to see his father one afternoon, to ask advice about how to prepare themselves to fight on the journey, that he realized they had far more sense than he had given them credit for.* He realized he had fallen into the same trap as his father once had regarding Bilbo: He had underestimated them.

Still it was not until a few days later that Gimli had begun to understand their true depth of feeling. Gloín had asked him to find Bilbo and invite him to their chambers for refreshment, a reciprocation for Bilbo having them to tea a few days earlier. Not finding the old hobbit in his small apartment, nor in the kitchens nor in the Hall of Fire, he had begun to wander the grounds in hopes of finding Bilbo taking the sun on one of the many benches. Sure enough, there he was. He was not alone-his two younger kinfolk were with him-but Gimli started to approach anyway.

Until something in their posture made him think perhaps the conversation was a private one. He stopped where he was, and hung back, near one of the many pillars carved to look like a living tree. And then he realized he was not out of earshot…

_Pippin had burst into tears, and Bilbo had put a comforting arm about his young cousin. "Cousin Bilbo, I was so frightened…" _

_xxxxxxx_

_Ah, thought Gimli, he must be speaking of their encounter with the Nine on their journey here._

_But Pippin's voice continued, "I was so certain Lord Elrond was going to send us-or at least me-back to the Shire! I couldn't have borne it, Cousin Bilbo."_

_"There now, my lad! No need for tears now-the decision's been made, and Master Elrond will not go back on his word once given!"_

_Pippin leaned into Bilbo's side, accepting the comfort offered, and on Bilbo's other side, Merry leaned forward. "We have to thank you, Bilbo! We know you spoke for us."_

_Bilbo shook his head. "Gandalf's opinion was the important one. But as your senior family member here, I felt entitled to give my own opinion." He drew out a large white handkerchief, and handed it to Pippin, who blew his nose loudly and sat back up._

_"What did you tell him, Bilbo?" Merry asked._

_"The truth: that it would do no good to forbid you a place in the Company, because as soon as you could, you would slip away and follow; that you are both steadfast and brave; and that Frodo would need the companionship of Family on the journey. Frodo has never been as solitary a hobbit as I was. That _was_ the truth, was it not?"_

_"Well," said Merry, "I _had_ begun to make plans for our escape."_

_Bilbo nodded. "I thought as much." His voice was a bit smug. "But the two of you will be far safer among the Company than trailing behind them in the Wild." He placed an arm around each of them in a proud embrace. "I know I can trust you to help Sam take care of Frodo."_

_"We'll stick with him, Bilbo, we will," said Merry earnestly._

_"They'll have to drag us off kicking and screaming to get us away from him!" said Pippin, with not a hint of humor in his tone._

_"Well, I hope it shan't come to that! But I've every confidence in the both of you, and I am uncommonly proud to have a chance to see what kind of hobbits the two of you have grown into. Frodo could not ask for better friends."_

_The two younger hobbits had thanked Bilbo once more, and then taken their leave, and Gimli had approached to tender his father's invitation, with a good deal to think upon… _

xxxxxxx

Well, young Master Pippin had been right. It had taken a horde of Orcs to drag them kicking and screaming away from where their cousin had headed. Gimli had no doubts whatsoever that if the two of them had not been captured, they would even now be attempting to follow Frodo and Sam, somehow.

And now they were being carried further and further into peril, and away from the side of the cousin whom they so dearly loved.

Dwarves were by and large a cynical and pessimistic race-but Gimli held on to the thought that they _would_ find the two young hobbits. Alive. And well. They _had_ to.

To fail was unthinkable…

xxxxxxx

*In my story "Never Give Up"


	4. Epilogue: At Isengard

**THE THREE HUNTERS**

**EPILOGUE: AT ISENGARD**

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli followed Merry and Pippin into _a large chamber, with other smaller doors at the far end, and a hearth and chimney at one end…On the hearth wood was burning._

_"I lit a bit of a fire," said Pippin, "It cheered us up in the fogs. There were a few faggots about, and most of the wood we could find was wet. But there is a great draught in the chimney: it seems to wind away up through the rocks, and fortunately it has not been blocked. A fire is handy. I will make you some toast. The bread is three or four days old, I am afraid."_

_Aragorn and his companions sat themselves down at one end of a long table, and the hobbits disappeared through one of the inner doors._*

They could hear Pippin's voice, as he continued talking, even though the hobbits had moved out of earshot. Gimli chuckled.

"Well, it seems our truants are none the worse for wear, after all. I do not suppose that I should have wasted my time in worrying. Hobbits seem to land upon their feet much like cats."

Aragorn shook his head. "I would not say 'none the worse for wear', Gimli. I noticed rope burns on their wrists and whip welts on the backs of their legs. And Merry is sporting a scar on his brow which was not there when we parted.' He stretched out his long legs under the table with a sigh. Toasted bread, of a wonder, in the midst of all this destruction. Somehow it reminded him of Bilbo. Stout hearts, these hobbits, and they never seemed to lose sight of what was most important.

Legolas nodded. "The Orcs were not gentle with them. Yet I noted as well that their hurts seem to be far more healed than I would have expected, given that they only escaped a few days ago. But they have been among the _Onodrim_, and I've no doubt their injuries were tended to in some fashion or other." The Elf leaned back in his seat, and tapped a finger thoughtfully on the table; his curiosity about the Ents had been piqued.

Aragorn nodded. "I have to say, in spite of Gandalf's reassurances, that at times I despaired of seeing them again. I was very glad to see them." He glanced from Wood Elf to Dwarf. Legolas seemed as fresh as if he'd just come from bed and breakfast, but Gimli was looking a little worn around the edges, his brow furrowed as if in deep thought. But Legolas spoke again, drawing the Ranger's attention once more.

"As was I," said Legolas. "I know they are a hardy pair, and hobbits have a good deal more endurance than one would think to look upon them. But to have been among the Orcs for so long-well, hobbits also seem to be blessed with a fair amount of luck."

"I would agree," said Aragorn, "they were uncommonly lucky. But it's clear they showed enough presence of mind to get themselves away," he said proudly. "I look forward to hearing their tale." He paused a moment. "Master Dwarf, you are being rather quiet. Is something wrong?"

Gimli leaned forward in his seat, and rubbed the beard on his chin. "It is just-do they look _taller_ to you?"

Just then Pippin's voice was heard, still talking, as though he had never ceased, _"Store room in the back, and above the floods luckily…"*_

xxxxxxx

*From _The Two Towers, Book III, Chapter IX, "Flotsam and Jetsam"_


End file.
